Smothered

          Smothering.

          That was the only way to describe it. A hot wind whipped past your cheeks, and the crickets chirped unceasingly. The setting of the sun had done nothing to calm the heat of the day. Only now, it was dark. Hot, empty, and dark. There was so much water in the air that you were surprised you couldn't see it. Your house was only a few feet behind you. Yet you sat there, within reach of the dry, cool indoors, staring out at the dark, clouded sky. For once you can't see the stars, and the moon won't be making an appearance tonight. The noises of the night are loud, but you don't hear them. The near-deafening roar of the wind is silent to your ears. Tonight you aren't enjoying scenery. Tonight, you're fighting.

          No one has come to attack you; in fact, you haven't seen anyone for hours. But the battle rages on, even in the absence of an enemy. You might find this strange, if you cared to think about it. Your mind is too occupied, though. The strain is starting to show. Bags have developed under those once-sharp eyes; an ever-present crease now alters your flawless forehead. The sharpness of your features has all but disappeared. The fight has taken its toll on you, and anyone who saw you now would know that. Your hollow gaze at the empty sky is testament enough to that.

          No one understands, though. You've had to fight so long, but no one knows your enemy. They do not realize, even as they eat away at your health, a little at a time. Their cheerful laughter, their warm smiles and pleasant conversations have all increased your misery. That helpful hand, offered only out of habit, not true compassion, is like another dagger in your heart. Even in the bright happiness of a summer gathering, you find no happiness. You are outside, even as they encircle you. Pitiful attempts at acquaintance cause your eyes to roll. Only, now, you don't roll them anymore. You don't see the point. You don't see the point to any of it, anymore.

          You are alone.

          So alone, that even now, sitting at a party, surrounded by your associates, you see no one. The sun beaming down on you does nothing to give you light. The cool summer breeze burns to the touch. The happy chatter of the people around you is a deafening roar, until you hear it no more. You've given in. You've been smothered by your own self-pity, and now you can't breathe.